Recording Redacted on behalf of His most Holy Inquisitorial Ordos Xenos.

Begins ://

Three point Five Kilometres beneath the frozen surface of Vanha.

The Deathwatch Kill Team, all wounded and fatigued from battle collect themselves atop the lowest point of the hanging pyramidion. The conduit is deactivated, but the darkness means little to the Astarte’s. The great turbines continue to ark and spin beneath, or above them, depending on ones perspective.

This is illumination enough for the Aeldari too, for they also seem unphased by the darkness, as they tend to their wounded. The Xeno Kill Team suffered four casualties whilst holding the Necron reinforcements at bay, However they appear to have gained another to their number. A robed figure, thin even for that race, wearing a strange antlered helm but no other apparent wargear. The Striking Scorpion Exarch, Carnan leaps from the slowly orbiting platform, and begins slowly stride towards the Astarte’s, helm fixedly angled towards the Palan, Assault Marine she had briefly battled beside.

Apothecary Scipio tends to Brother Kelt, his gravelly voice catching brother Kelt up with the climax of the battle. Kelt lies on his back, leant up on a spar of cracked stone which seems to slowly settle.

Already signs of battle are beginning to fade from the alien structure.

Kelt, helmless, is visibly distraught. His right arm is a ruin that Scipio is fussing over now the gauntlet has been removed also. Kelt’s usually confident demeanor has been replaced by a pathetic cloak of shame at his absolute defeat, being usurped to not only protect the Xeno overlord, but fight his brothers helplessly too much for the young battle brother.

As Brother Palan regroups with the team around the console helmed by Ignatius, Jahi’s eyes still project forth a constant ark of lightning which his helm does nothing to suppress. Even more disturbing is the deep musical sound that the lightning seems to play.

The power flowing thru the librarian is exhilarating, but it is also overwhelming. Jahi can sense the singularity in the warp, a pulling tide that threatens to draw in all of nearby warpspace. With the battle done, He notices that he can feel the tide of souls from within, a great force deep on the other side pushing from within, and sending such power to the Lexicanum. The emotional overflow leaks into Jahi’s psyche, yearning to be free of their unliving purgatory. But beneath that is a sense of melancholic relief, Joy born of an end long due.

Ignatius notices little of this, the wealth of information compiling before him possessing an overwhelming gravity of its own. The most troubling of which so far are the scraps of code used to control the teams power armour. The formating was near identical to that used by the daemon engine, however the implementation could not be more different. The Deamon-Code was aggressive, and had an adaptability to his strings that made it appear almost alive, predictive countermeasures to the Techmarines assaults appearing where none was before, and a pattern of aggression that capitalized on every wall of his code it broke thru.

This was different, it was precise and guarded. Far less vulnerabilities than the Deamon-Codes scripts, but completely inflexible. Each string set about doing a single task, it was the overwhelming amount of data sent that made it so vaunting. It held an expertise of technology that was almost arrogant in its implementation. More dangerous was its subtlety, being able to observe the connection to Jahi’s armour, he was confident he had expunged it thoroughly, he suspected whatever was happening to the librarian, or the disruption of Jahi’s own powers helped with that. Ignatius couldn't be so sure if Kelt’s plate would ever be safe to use around Necrons again.

The dread these revelations gave was somewhat abated by the wealth of data at his fingertips. That he had such limited data storage was a disappointment, but in some ways the flesh can be strong, and the memory capacity of an Astarte’s brain was formidable indeed.

Jahi's Electric Eye Singing:

_________________You do not need to like me, You need only Worship me.

For the first time in several hours, Palan allowed himself to relax. It wasn't his wounds which wearied him but rather the xenos structures that they had infiltrated over the course of this mission. The obsidian ziggurats and obelisks defied all of the laws of the universe which he could recall. He turned his gaze upwards towards the core of the moon. The void above his head was filled with naught but the crackling energy of an immense turbine that continued to spin despite the Necron complex being shut down. The mission did not allow for the Necrons to be utterly destroyed; Palan wished it were otherwise.

The Necron threat was incapacitated but xenos still surrounded the Deathwatch team. Palan watched as the Eldar tended to their wounded and took stock of their situation. He was alert to the threat they still posed as they outnumbered the Kill Team by a hefty margin. If they so wished, the Eldar could attempt to destroy the Astartes. Palan would not permit them to survive if they tried. Despite his distaste for the xenos, Palan could not help but admit that the Eldar had fought admirably and with a certain measure of skill.

His eyes narrowed as the Eldar leader, a warrior wearing dark green armour and wielding a huge claw on one of her arms, approached the assembled Astartes. Palan stepped forward to place himself between the Eldar and the rest of his battle brothers. Scipio was still tending to Kelt's grievous injuries while Ignatius was absorbed in deciphering the Necron console's cogitations. He could not be certain to where Jahi's attention was drawn considering the warp energies that appeared to have infused him during this mission.

Palan gritted his teeth in quiet frustration. This mission had produced many questions to which there were no simple answers. The warp, Necron technology, allying with xenos: all were antithetical to Palan. Despite his misgivings, he was not experienced enough to take on all challenges by himself. He'd come to realise that, ever since that first mission on Lythen, an Astartes by himself is not an insurmountable bastion, impregnable to all danger. Palan could not, now or ever, be a lone crusader. The Emperor demanded more than a simple Astartes; the Emperor desired an Astartes that could serve Him on Terra in the best way possible. The Emperor would forge him and the rest of the squad to be the strongest and most indomitable extension of His will.

Palan knew that to hold onto his petty grudges would render him brittle and inflexible. The fire of hatred would burn the Emperor's enemies, not those who could serve Him. Fighting alongside psykers and aliens would not diminish him but would hone him into an instrument worthy of the Emperor. He had been unfair in his judgement.

The Crimson Fist awaited the Eldar leader as he listened to the strange sound emanating from Jahi. There would questions once they returned to the Fer de Lance but Palan would not deliver retribution or judgement. He would serve the Deathwatch and the will of the Emperor.